Poetry
Winter 1994
Islands
Near. Toward morning. The sky clears and I begin to find you once again beside me. There are islands in the middle of the lake– hidden by mist–Who can exist […]
Poetry
Winter 1994
The Canoe Ride
We are trying to find the waterfall –all afternoon, along the edges of the lake, the high-pitched calls of loons. (Imprecise directions.) We pass through the canal–shallow, silent. You explore […]